


Hot Drinks and Overthinking

by Delightful_I_Am



Series: Coffee Shop Shenanigans [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, M/M, Mentioned Allison Argent, Singer Derek, Talkative Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delightful_I_Am/pseuds/Delightful_I_Am
Summary: Stiles has trouble keeping his mouth shut. Derek helps.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think we've all realised by now that I have a problem. I'm willing to ignore it if you are ;)

"Lydia, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” The petulant whine floated through the apartment, a pile of blankets on the couch waved an arm in the petite redhead’s direction. “See, I’m wearing clothes today and everything.”

“As pleased as I am that I don’t have to see you naked, Stiles, it doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t been outside in over a week.” The clipped tones pierced Stiles’ expertly shaped cocoon like the talons from a bird of prey. Not an inaccurate way to describe Lydia, if Stiles were completely honest with himself.

He huddled deeper under his blankets, muttering about nosy best friends and their lack of empathy. He was _distraught_ over here. He’d accidentally told the lovely scarf-wearing boy that he _liked his face_. No, it was far better to stay safe where he would never have to talk to another human being again. Oh that sounded like a wonderful plan. Unfortunately, the human hurricane that was Lydia Martin had other ideas.

He found himself on the floor, sans blankets, with his highly unamused best friend glaring down at him.

“Lydia!”

“ _Stiles_!” The mocking had started, apparently, “If you don’t get your behind off the floor and into the shower right this second, I will do it for you! I mean it. I’m going to the cafe today, and you are coming with me. There’s a new act playing and I want to see it.”

“No way I can convince you to do this tomorrow?” His tone was hopeful.

“Nope. Up with you, come on!”

Heaving an overly large, and not entirely genuine sigh, Stiles hauled himself off the ground and trudged off to his bathroom, trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t happy about it.

“See Stiles, the world doesn’t care that you told a cute boy you found him attractive.” Lydia’s cheery tone was at odds with the frigid air and general miserableness of the mid-winter’s afternoon. She wrapped her hand around Stiles’ elbow and hummed a tune he couldn’t place as she skipped down the street, gracefully missing every frozen puddle and every pile of slushy snow. Stiles was just trying not to tumble face-first into a drift.

“Lyds, are you absolutely sure we can’t do this tomorrow? I think something’s wrong with me. There’s too much air out here. Can you taste almonds? Maybe we should just forget about it and head home.”

He tried to turn back the way they’d come, but her hand was suddenly a vice on his arm, stopping him short and nearly sending him crashing into a light pole. His amber eyes were wide, darting around, looking at everything in the street except Lydia’s patient gaze. His breathing escalated, coming in quick, sharp gasps, never seeming to bring enough oxygen into his lungs.

“Stiles! Stiles look at me.” Her small hands were warm on his frozen cheeks, “Stiles, I need you to breathe. You’re already outside, the hard part’s over, but I need you to breathe with me, okay?”

He tried to nod his head, but all that happened was a strangled sort of groan came from the back of his throat. She grasped his face tighter, forcing him to look at her as she breathed in and out, exaggerating the movements. He tried to concentrate on her lips, tried to mimic the shape they made, tried to control his breathing. She placed a hand over his heart, now that he seemed disinclined to look away from her, and counted out the beats, one through seven, inhale and exhale. Gradually, his pulse slowed and his breaths came deeper and easier. Lydia nodded her head at him, encouraging him to keep going.

“Good Stiles! That’s really good. Keep breathing, you’re doing wonderfully.”

It was several minutes before Stiles was able to straighten up from the half crouch he had managed to find himself in, Lydia’s gentle hands running through his hair, soothing him. She looked at him with doe-like hazel eyes that could melt the heart of even the most grouchy of grouches.

“Do you need me to call Scott and tell him we’re going home?”

“No! No, I- I’m okay, I think. Can we just - can we just walk fast so I don’t have to think about it?”

“Of course.” There was a twinkle in her eye, “I can even promise that you won’t have to talk to anyone but me and Scott.”

“Oh thank you!” His relief was evident in his sudden grin, and his shoulders visibly relaxed as he took one more deep breath, exhaling loudly. “Come on then, can’t keep ol’ Scotty boy waiting.”

The cafe was bustling with a low hum of activity, people from all over coming in to have something warm to take the chill out of their bones. Scott waited for Stiles and Lydia at their favourite table, the one that Erica always saved for them. More than once she had practically snarled at customers that the table was taken. Once she even went so far as to make Boyd sit amongst a pile of coats from the lost and found to make sure it was still free on a particularly busy day. She doted on all three of them, but Stiles was her particular favourite, she always had an extra big cookie set aside for him, and never minded when he bailed on their plans last minute.

They waved to Erica as they came in, stamping their feet to get rid of any ice, before removing scarves and coats, winding their way through the cluster of tables. Stiles’ face brightened considerably on seeing Scott waiting and he picked up his pace, spinning around as he hurtled into Boyd, who was trying to clear a table. Boyd just turned with him, a steadying hand around his waist, as though they’d done this a thousand times before, shaking his head as Stiles called an apology back over his shoulder.

“Sorry Boyd! You’re the best, big guy! Really, you’re my fave!” He leapt over the back of the couch, landing on the seat with a laugh. “Scotty! Not-brother of mine! How have you been? Anything new? Did Lydia force you to have a shower too?”

“I like to think I don’t need to be forced to have a shower, bud.” Scott’s puppy dog eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter as he waved at Lydia, who was just sitting down beside Stiles. “What was the cause of your hermititude this time? You know you can call me whenever, right?”

Stiles smiled at him, “Oh man! If those eyes get any more sad, you’ll actually turn into a puppy, dude. But seriously, I’m okay. I just sort of vomited words on a complete stranger again, no big deal. It’s not like I built a fort on my couch or anything.”

“Of course not, Stiles, that would have been more appropriate for an actual embarrassing situation.” They all looked up as Erica deposited three hot chocolates on the table, extra marshmallows in Stiles’ cup. “Like the time you tried to chat up the coat rack.”

“That was an outlying incident! I was very drunk! And to be completely fair, it was a very attractive coat rack.” Stiles nodded, picking up his hot chocolate and wrapping his long fingers around the mug. “Ohhh Erica! You’re amazing. I want to have your babies. Boyd is going to have to learn to share.”

Erica laughed and presented her cheek, which Stiles promptly kissed, winking at Boyd over her shoulder. “Anything you say, sugarplum. As long as you keep sweet talking me like that.”

Scott was quietly moaning into his own cup as he took tiny little sips, trying to savour the warm drink. Lydia was pointedly ignoring the lot of them, trying to maintain a modicum of dignity, but the slight twist to her mouth betrayed her amusement.

The small stage in the corner across the room from their table was set up with a single stool and a mic stand. Normally there would have been an amp and some speakers at the very least, but these were curiously absent. Stiles quirked an eyebrow at it, a tilt of his head indicating his interest. Erica smiled, a small, wicked little smirk that made Stiles think that perhaps Lydia hadn’t been the only one to insist he be there tonight.

“We have a new act playing tonight. He insisted on a stripped stage, not really sure why, he was recommended to us so I’ve never _actually_ heard him play. I’ve been told he’s amazing though.” She shrugged, “We’ll see soon, I suppose, he’s due to be on in ten minutes.”

Erica winked at Stiles again, ruffled his hair, and swept down to kiss Lydia on the cheek as she headed back to the counter. Stiles frowned and gulped down the last of his hot chocolate, sitting back with a contented sigh. Scott was still making out with his drink, and frankly, it was mildly disturbing.

“Allison still at her parent’s place, Scotty my pal?” Scott sighed and looked up over the rim of his mug.

“Yeah, she’s not back til _next week_! She’s been gone forever. I forgot what she looked like this morning!” Scott’s eyes were wide with horror at himself, causing both Lydia and Stiles to snicker at his theatrics.

“Scotty, you were waxing poetic about her “beautiful cocoa eyes” and “perfect dimples” only last night.” Stiles made the little quotation marks in the air to prove his point, “I have a feeling you’ll never forget what her face looks like. Neither will I, for that matter, if you keep it up”

Scott grinned sheepishly through his eyelashes at them, a light blush creeping into his cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something, no doubt about how Allison’s dimples were in fact perfect, but Boyd put a hand hastily over his mouth, replacing Stiles’ empty drink with a fresh one.

“Scott, if you start that in here, I can not be held responsible for what I do to you. I have better things to listen to than your all-encompassing love for Allison.”

Lydia gave Boyd a grateful look, and Stiles leaned across the table to grab him around the neck, planting a big kiss on his forehead. Amidst Boyd’s protests and Stiles’ exuberant thanks, ( _you’re the best Boyd. I love you so much right now_ ) they all failed to notice the new act setting himself up on the stage, eyeing their group with thinly concealed scorn.

By the time Boyd had extricated himself from Stiles’ clutches, a long-suffering look on his face, and the others had relaxed in their seats, the man on stage had his back to the small crowd in the cafe. All Stiles could see was a broad-shouldered back in a shirt that would possibly have been too tight even on him, and a pair of jeans that left very little to the imagination. A leather jacket was slung over the stool, a guitar case open on the floor. Stiles was very close to finding the man attractive until he turned around, a scowl on his face, and started his set abruptly, completely ignoring everyone in the room.

“Lyds!” The loud whisper caused several people to shush Stiles, and the scowly man on stage to glare in his direction, eyebrows getting impossibly lower over his eyes. “Lyds, I think I’m in love! He’s beautiful!”

Lydia turned an incredulous look on Stiles, only to find him staring, enraptured, at the brooding musician. She looked to Scott, clearly wanting his help, but he had his face buried in his phone. If the goofy smile was anything to go by, Allison was texting him, and Lydia knew he would be utterly useless for the next hour at least. She turned back to Stiles.

“Stiles, seriously? This guy? He looks like he lights kittens on fire for fun.” She earned herself a few angry hisses to be quiet, but she just levelled unimpressed looks at her accusers and they backed right down.

“No Lyds, look at him! I want to lick his jaw. Do you think he’d let me lick his jaw? I wonder what he tastes like? Oh!” His voice was rising now, even Scott had pulled his face away from his phone to stare in horror. “I bet he tastes like sunshine, and Spring, and I bet his eyes are like the stars!”

He sighed happily, not noticing the gaping faces of those nearest their table, and Erica doubled over, clutching her stomach as Boyd tried to hold her up with one hand and count the till with the other. Lydia spent the rest of the half hour set with her hand over Stiles’ mouth, enduring glares from the other customers, and muffled talking from Stiles still trying to talk about ‘Broody McEyebrows’ and his excellent jaw line.

“I’m Derek Hale, and this has been - this has been irritating.” Broody McEyebrows - _Derek Hale_ \- flicked one last annoyed look at Stiles in the corner, being smothered by Lydia and Scott both, before standing and starting to clear up the stage.

“Oh my god, Lydia!” Stiles’ voice rang out above the dispersing crowd, “He has a name! A name, Lydia! Scotty, Scotty! Bud, pal, dude, bro! Did you hear his name? Oh it’s even better than I imagined it.”

Erica was on the floor, gasping for breath at Stiles’ antics; she was trying to stand up, but kept collapsing in fits of giggles whenever she looked at him. Boyd was leaning on the counter, head in hands trying to keep his face straight enough to finish seeing the last customers out the door.

“I sure did hear it, dude. It’s a very nice name.” Scott patted Stiles on the shoulder, his face suspiciously composed, “Now how about we head home so poor Erica can breathe again?”

At this, Erica’s laughter burst out louder than before, Boyd gave up entirely and dropped his head on the counter, eyes closed tight as if he could send himself into a separate dimension by force of will alone. Lydia had one hand over her mouth, struggling to control her own giggles that were threatening to escape.

“Scott, sit him down and try to get him to do complicated maths. I’ll be back in a minute.” She turned in a swirl of skirts and stalked off to the cafe’s breakroom, searching out the musician who had reduced her friend to a gibbering mess.

By the time she came back, a frustrated frown on her face, Scott had calmed Stiles down, and Erica had managed to regain her feet, only occasionally bursting into small fits of stifled laughter.

“Come on Stiles, let’s get you home.” Stiles allowed himself to be dragged off the couch by Scott, one arm slung over his shoulders, he waved merrily back at Boyd and Erica as they walked out the door and into the icy night.

They had only gone one block when Stiles stopped suddenly, a hand running through his hair.

“Oh no! I left my beanie! Dad sent me that, he’ll kill me if I lose it!” He turned and started jogging back down the street. “You guys go on ahead, I’ll catch up!” Scott and Lydia shook their heads before linking arms and continuing slowly up the street.

Stiles skidded to a stop, nearly slamming into the door to the cafe. He pressed his face up against the glass, trying to peer through to the darkened room beyond. Not making anything out, he tried knocking, but no sign of life stirred inside.

“No!” He moaned against the glass, hands still cupped around his eyes. “I can’t believe it! I was gone for like, two minutes. I swear if they’re having sex in the breakroom again, I’ll murder them! Erica! Boyd! If you’re having sex in the breakroom again I’ll murder you! Come on guys! I left my beanie in there! My dad gave me that! It has little penguins on it and everything.”

His voice trailed off and he turned around, leaning his head against the door eyes closed. “Man, dad is gonna kill me! He’s always telling me not to leave things lying around. Way to go Stiles, now he’s gonna disown you. Oh man, I’m too pretty to be alone! Why can I taste almonds again? Oh great, I’m dying. This is where I die. My tombstone will read ‘Stiles Stilinski - always left his stuff behind, disowned by father, died from a panic attack in front of a cafe.’”

His breath was coming in little gasps again. He sank down to the cold ground on his knees, trying to remember how to count. Counting was important right now. He wasn’t too sure why, but something about Lydia and counting and something else. Breathing! He was supposed to be breathing. He was bracing himself on his hands, fingers outstretched, the footpath sending icy spikes straight through his palms and into his chest. He was pretty sure his lungs were frozen, because they definitely didn’t seem to be working.

“Come on Stiles.”  The words were choked out, around gasps and hysterical giggles. “Come on man, Think of poor Scotty. How is he supposed to get through another week without Allison if you’re dead? Oh man, that’s not helping!”

He flung his hands up, still forcing strangled breaths through his mouth, only to find them stopped by something. Something warm and firm. He kept his head down, cautiously patting what seemed to be someone’s thigh. He held his breath and pressed his palm against the unmoving force in front of him. Yes. That was definitely someone’s thigh. Someone’s very firm, well-rounded thigh.

“Oh look, there are boots in front of me. That would explain the thigh…” He trailed off as he raised his head and found himself face to face with… “...and that’s a crotch. Because of _course it is_! Can’t a man die from a panic attack in peace! I don’t need a witness to this.”

He struggled to rise from the ground, using the thighs - _the very nice thighs_ \- to help him stand. He kept his gaze lowered, fixed on where his hands were now clenched tight on the someone’s waist. Someone’s leather jacket-clad waist. He’d managed to pull the person’s shirt up a little as he’d gone, and he found he was holding this someone by the very soft, very warm skin of their hips. He looked up slightly, and was confronted by a jaw that seemed to be clenching and unclenching.

“I know this jaw! This is the jaw of … oh no....” He groaned as he lifted his eyes and locked onto the eyes of the moody musician. “Oh come on! Seriously?! Broody McEyebrows _Derek Hale_?! That’s who I’m dying in front of? Oh man. I can’t catch a break. Great, now he’s gonna know I want to lick his jaw! Shut up Stiles!”

Stiles was still complaining when he felt himself being pushed up against the cafe door, an incredibly strong arm braced against his chest, holding him in place. His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed, eyes flicking down to where his hands were still clutched on Derek’s hips.

“Uhh…”

“Do you ever shut up?” The voice was low and growly, “You didn’t stop talking all through my set.”

“Oh man, are my knees supposed to feel like jelly? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it’s because of that voice. Who has a voice like that? OhmygodstoptalkingStiles.” Stiles closed his eyes, scrunching his nose as though expecting a fist to the face. “Just try to avoid my face. I’d like an open casket, can’t deny the world one last chance to look at this face amirite?”

He felt the arm across his chest move and he flinched, expecting a blow, but instead, strong hands gripped his face and a breath washed over his skin.

“Shut up Stiles.”

And then - oh. _Oh!_ Lips. Those were lips. Those were lips on his lips! Derek was kissing him! Stiles dug his fingers into Derek’s hips and kissed him back, pressing up to him with a soft whine at the back of his throat. Derek pressed up against him and growled into Stiles’ mouth and whoa! There go the knees again. Stiles’ heart was beating a staccato tattoo inside his chest. He moved his hands further up, under Derek’s shirt as Derek’s hands moved to his back and one threaded itself into his hair. He broke away with a gasp.

“Okay how are your abs even _real?!_ ”

Derek’s answer was to move his mouth down Stiles’ neck. Stiles gasped when he bit down gently, hands scrabbling for purchase on Derek’s smooth skin.

“Oh dude! That’s... ahh… that’s amazing! Keep doing that!” Derek pulled away, and Stiles did absolutely not whine at that. Derek glared at him and Stiles swallowed, “One more thing.”

A raised eyebrow as Stiles brought his face back up to Derek’s. Their lips brushed and Stiles grinned.

“You _do_ taste like sunshine!”

Derek smiled and kissed him again, bodies pressed tight, one hand braced on the door behind Stiles. Stiles vaguely registered a window being thrown open above them, the sound of a gleeful cackle piercing the air. He was still losing himself in Derek when he heard footsteps.

“Dude what’s taking you so lon- argh! Dude! Warn a bro! Oh I didn’t need to see this! My eyes!”

Stiles threw a hand out, flipping Scott off before bringing his hand back to Derek, and running it through his hair, tugging lightly. Derek laughed against his lips while Scott pretended to retch into the gutter and Boyd tried to keep Erica from falling out of the window. Erica gave his beanie back the next day, and Boyd gave Erica thirty bucks.

**Author's Note:**

> Sure, 3500 words on this, I have no problems with. Just try to get me to write more than a few hundred on the thing I'm supposed to be writing and noooooo. I may have a problem.


End file.
